


You're the peanut butter to my jelly

by lunaemoth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, Fluff, Food Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaemoth/pseuds/lunaemoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the Avengers shout at Coulson the zombie, Darcy quietly eats her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.<br/>Lance might be loyal to his new boss but this is way above his paycheck. PBJ sounds much more appealing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're the peanut butter to my jelly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [usedkarma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedkarma/gifts).



> This takes place after the last episodes of Agents of SHIELD, in a future where is everything is resolved for the best.  
> It's basically just fluff and smut for _usedkarma_ 's request of Darcy/Hunter and the April Challenge on fuckyeahdarcylewis.
> 
>  
> 
> NB: I'm french and this is unbeta-ed. If you see any horrible mistake, feel free to tell me nicely in a comment with a correction and I'll be happy to edit it.  
> You can find me on lunaemoth.tumblr.com

Darcy munched on her sandwich happily as she spun on her rotating stool. She was alone in Jane’s lab at the Avengers Tower and had used the opportunity to put her playlist on loudspeaker. It was the only way to drown the argument coming from the hallway – why they decided to scream at each other there was a mystery (if she had to guess, she would bet on Tony wanting to experiment on Coulson the zombie). She hummed to The Script and took a large bite.

The sliding door opened, letting in a flow of loud voices. She straightened, expecting Jane, but the man stepping in was a stranger and he really wasn’t bad looking. She wouldn’t let a great face compromise her professionalism, though. Her mouth being full, she raised a hand to stop him and gestured for him to turn around and go away.

He spread his hands. “Come on, be a dear, I’m asking for sanctuary from this madness.” He pointed back at the door closing and blocking the sounds from the hall. “Plus, you’ve good music, it’s way better here. Please?”

Darcy wavered – damn those puppy eyes and this British accent combo, that wasn’t fair. She patted her name tag to ask for his visitor’s badge and he stepped forward to show it. She squinted to read his name: Lance Hunter. If she wasn’t still chewing, she definitely would have made some jokes, but she only raised her hand and gestured to the ceiling.

“Mr Hunter is part of Mr Coulson’s party and as such allowed level 4 access, if it’s what you’re asking, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy gave her buddy Jarvis a thumbs-up and finally swallowed her mouthful. “You’re the best J-man.” She turned to the intruder and his raised eyebrows. “I’m Darcy Lewis and if you try to steal data, I’ll taser you, got it?”

He raised his hands in a show of surrender. “Got it.”

“Then you can stay,” she patted the stool besides her and slid her tray towards him as he did.

“Is there a sandwich party after the shouting match?” He asked, faced with the mountain of food.

“It’s National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day,” Darcy explained very seriously.

“Seriously? There’s a day for that?”

“Yup. Incidentally, it’s also Reconciliation Day.”

He gave a forced laugh and glanced at the hallway. “Riiight,” he drawled slowly.

“Yeah, the sandwiches are a safer bet, that’s what I thought too.” She continued to eat, moving her head with the music.

“Fair enough.” Hunter decided after a moment of consideration. He helped himself, hummed appreciatively and gave her a thumbs-up. She smiled around her mouthful. She was the best sandwich-maker a scientist could ask for!

They ate silently for a while, listening to a song named _Superheroes_ while, next door, some real ones were chewing out a zombie. A normal day at work.

When he had to left, Darcy wrapped two more sandwiches for him. “You’ll need energy for the reconciliation part.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome, but you can’t share with Coulson! He’s a zombie feeding on innocent iPods, he can’t have any.”

“Right… I guess there’s a story behind this?”

“That’s a secret,” she teased.

His amused expression soured. “Yeah, I’m done with secrets. Thanks for the sandwiches, beautiful.”

Darcy stared thoughtfully as he left. Jane came back a few seconds later and she pushed away the Englishman from her mind.

*

Lance Hunter was assigned to the Avengers tower a few days later. Darcy wasn’t clear on what he was doing exactly but liaison between SHIELD and Avengers seemed a good guess. He worked with Maria Hill, a few floors below the labs, which meant that Darcy had few reasons to see him unless they were at the same time in the elevator.

Those rare encounters were never meaningless. Hunter had taken the distracting habit to compliment her in one way or another, each _fucking_ time. It went from basics: “love the dress”, “looking great”, “hey, gorgeous,” to “heard you stopped a Code Green yesterday, well done”…

She loved it of course; she had to fight back a few blushes even. The problem was his body language: he always stayed distant, almost dismissive sometimes. It was the most baffling mixed signals she had ever seen. After a few weeks, she had asked around, thinking that maybe he was this way with everyone, but she seemed to be an exception. And it’s not like he was too shy to ask her out or even to ask for sex no strings attached.

It was driving Darcy crazy. Two months after the PBJ Reconciliation Day (Darcy had brought sandwiches to the Avengers to calm them, they couldn’t shout when their mouth was full), she decided that she was done with this suspense.

It was Wednesday 10am and she was going to work after a late night. Hunter stepped into the elevator, staring at a tablet, and glanced at her just long enough to identify her: “Hi beautiful.”

She was hoping for a bit more, but that would have to do. “Yes, I’d love to go on a date with you. Friday at 7pm would be perfect,” she stated.

He looked up, glanced around to make sure she wasn’t speaking to a discreet alien and gaped a little before blinking and pulling himself together. “Uh… Great. I’ll come pick you up at your door?”

“Perfect. Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

She walked out, back straight, hiding her wide grin while she felt him staring. Bruce looked at her strangely when she danced past his lab, but that was nothing new.

*

When she opened her door that Friday, she hadn’t seen him since Wednesday and she was stressed: she had wondered if he would remember or change his mind, how she should dress since they hadn’t specify anything, if she had made a big mistake…

But he was here, on time, and a bit dressed up: leather jacket gone, with a navy polo and black slacks. He was leaning heavily with a hand against the wall, which did great things to show off his muscles.

She relaxed slightly. With her black dress and boots, she didn’t clash. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, staring openly at her advantageous cleavage.

“What, it’s when I try that I get no compliment?”

“You’re mesmerizing.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “Nice one. Well, you look really _posh_.”

He chuckled and offered her his arm. “My lady, if you please…” They walked arm in arm, Darcy’s door closing behind her automatically. “I probably should say sorry for not asking you out properly before you got fed up with me,” he noted in the elevator. “I like you a lot but…” He shrugged.

“Ah. An ex? One with too many secrets?” she guessed.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I don’t have secrets. If the food is good, I’ll tell you the story of Coulson the iPod stealer.”

He grinned slowly. “Looking forward to it.”

The French food was delicious. She spilled the story of her life since New Mexico. In return, she got the brief explanation of “my ex is a spy” (it would make a great Hollywood movie).

She had a bit too much wine so, of course, she nearly faceplanted when they stopped in front of her door, but he kept her standing with a fond laugh and steadied her with an arm around her waist. His other hand went to cup her face as he slowly leaned to kiss her, keeping his touch light, lips brushing against each other.

“Thanks for a great evening, beautiful,” he whispered before leaving.

*

For their third date, Darcy opened her door in her pajamas, hands on her hips. She glared at Hunter. “This is _so_ lame!”

“Come on, don’t be mad at me, sweetheart,” he pleaded as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

“I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at those stupid bad guys who made you late. The third date is sacred! … I think… It is in the movies anyway.”

“You’re not mad at me then?” He asked to be sure, tilting his head slightly like he was ready for the worse but hoping for the best.

“Nah. I’m used to the Avengers kind of emergencies, remember? If I wanted a boyfriend to my beck and call I wouldn’t date you. I’m just glad you warned me.”

He relaxed and smiled. “Great. I was a bit worried, first time dating a civilian and all that.”

“Duh, I’m not your ordinary civilian.”

“No, you’re not.” He leaned to kiss her, lingering to lick her tongue and lips. “Mh. PBJ?”

“I made you some, come on.” She dragged him to her couch, let him sat down before putting her legs across his lap and a plate of sandwiches on top of her thighs.

“Love the PJs,” he noted, putting an arm around her waist and brushing the light purple cotton.

“It’s 10pm, Hunter, I was not waiting for you indefinitely in a tight dress and fine lingerie.” He choked a little on his first mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. She squinted at him. “You won’t see it. That’s your punishment for being late.”

“You said you weren’t mad.”

“I didn’t say there won’t be consequences. No third date, no sex.”

“This is a date,” he tried to protest. She squinted at him, menacing, and he backtracked quickly. “No, not a date, you’re right, PBJ, couch and PJs don’t count as a date.”

“Obviously. We’re just hanging out,” she concluded, stealing a piece of his sandwich and kissing the corner of his lips when he tried to protest.

“Does the hanging out include sex?” He tried.

She leaned with her head on his shoulder “Making out.”

“Ok, snogging, great, I’m all for that.” He smeared his sandwich on the skin of her collarbone picking out of her pajamas. “Oops, sorry, my bad, let me wipe that.” Darcy found herself with a button less and an expert tongue licking slowly and purposefully her skin.

“You little shit,” she chuckled, pushing him away as he licked his lips and grinned proudly.

“What can I say? You’re delicious… and I’m hungry.”

“Uhuh, then eat and let’s play.”

He snorted but he couldn’t protest when she had invented that game just for him. “Alright then, peanut butter or jelly?”

“Jelly.”

“Mh… what’s the most illicit thing you’ve ever done?”

“Hacking SHIELD. I mean, SHIELDRA, you know, pre-blow up.”

He laughed. “No less! I should introduce you to Skye, you’ll trade hacker secrets.”

“Skye, is that the girl who was part of Rising Tide and who hacked NSA satellites? Dude, I’m so below her level.”

“I’m sure she’d love to have you under her wing. My turn? Peanut butter. Mh… Let’s see, a random secret…” He pondered what to share as he finished his sandwich. “Alright, I have one, but this is between us, right?”

Curious, Darcy leaned against him with a mischievous smile. “That’s the rule.”

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be James Bond.”

Darcy burst into laughter. “That totally doesn’t surprise me! It’s too bad you failed.”

“What do you mean I failed? I worked for a spy agency!”

“Yeah, you did, but obviously you can’t pull the tuxedo as well as he did.”

He gaped, outraged. “I would have you know I look perfect in a tux.”

“Yeah, that’s why you never put on anything looking remotely like a suit.”

“Okay, okay, it’s on. Next date, I’m wearing a suit.”

“Yeah?”

“Damn right. But you know what that means? It means you’ll have to dress up too and I’ll bring you to one of those upscale restaurants you don’t like. Let’s see which one of us look better, uh?”

“Deal,” she agreed, kissing the tip of his nose.

He followed her lips, held the back of her head and kissed her tenderly. “Your turn,” he whispered against her cheek. “Tell me a secret about you, beautiful.”

“Mh… I really really like accents.”

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s sexy as hell,” she admitted in his ear before moving back slightly. “Unfortunately I got used to the British accent in London now it’s boring. I prefer French or... eep!” She laughed when she suddenly found herself back to the couch, Lance on top of him.

“I’ll show you boring,” he grumbled.

“Oh yes, show me Mr Bond,” she teased with a horrible imitation of his accent.

*

“Alright, I admit, the suit fits you perfectly and you have all the panoply of a true James Bond!” Darcy stated as they stepped in her apartment after their _official_ third date. She quickly removed her shoes, glad to get rid of the high heels, and went to the couch, bouncing on it as she looked back at her boyfriend. “I can’t help but wonder though, does that include the bad womanizer attitude?”

“What?” Lance looked up with a frown from the tie he was removing.

“Lance, you’ve been distracted all evening,” she sighed, lying back on the couch with no care for her long red dress and its delicate fabric. “I heard you had a visit from your ex and her friends today, I thought you were going to mention it, what with your no secrets rule, but nothing so…”

“I’m sorry, darling. I wanted to keep this evening about us, that’s all,” he explained, sighing and brushing his hair back.

“I know you said it was over between you but…”

“No ‘but’, Darcy. It’s done and over with. What’s that saying? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me… and there _won’t_ be a third,” he stated, looking determined and taking off his jacket with sharp gestures.

“Ok, as long as I’m not your rebound.”

He walked to her and slid his hand from her bare ankle to the top of her thigh, sliding the soft fabric away from her warm skin. “You’re not,” he promised, climbing on the couch to straddle her. “You’re the best woman I could hope for.” He kissed her passionately, leaving her breathless in record time. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” (he kissed her cheekbone) “funny,” (just under her ear) “and loyal” (and her collarbone.)

“I’m glad you think so. How many kids do you want?” She asked before bursting into laughter when he looked up, flabbergasted. “Oh, your face!” She laughed so much that she had to hold on to his (majestic) biceps.

“You little devil,” he mumbled, nipping her neck in retaliation and pushing his hand higher on her hip, past her panties, until his thumb stroke a sensitive spot that left her breathless once more.

“Lance,” she moaned, twining her legs around his, pulling him closer until he groaned.

“Bed. Come on. I’m not having our first time on the couch, that’s a recipe for awkward after time.”

She whined, reluctant to let him go. With a few adjustments, he managed to lift her to the bedroom where he dropped her on the mattress.

“Come here, peanut butter,” she said while making grabby hands at him.

“Dress off, first, jelly.” They wiggled out of their clothes until they were left in their underwear. Lance crawled above her, admiring her, and groaned before kissing the top of her breasts. “God, now I want to lick you all over.”

She chuckled. “I told you those restaurants’ portions are way too small.”

“Babe, I could have eaten a hamburger, I’d still be hungry for you.”

“You’re going to make me blush,” she mumbled, stroking his back while he mouthed at her cleavage.

“Just saying the truth,” he replied, his accent deepening as he get aroused. “Raspberry jam would be best on you, I think.”

“I have some in the fridge,” she noted absent-mindedly, focused on stroking all the available skin and admiring his muscles. When he suddenly looked up at her, she blinked before chuckling. “Go on.”

He leaped on his feet and ran to the kitchen.

“I’m not sleeping all sticky; you’ll have to hand-wash me!” She warned, leaning on her elbows when he came back.  

“Not a problem babe, I’ll take good care of you, promise. Look at that, the color matches your underwear. Perfect…”

“Your hands better be clean, Lance,” she groaned when he dipped his finger in the jelly. He traced a heart on her cleavage and she shivered at the cold touch. She warmed up as he licked and stroked her skin, slowly sliding the straps of her bra before unclipping it and pulling it off. His hands were caressing her skin expertly. His short beard was rubbing against her sensitive skin with an interesting contrast to his smooth tongue, never staying long enough to irritate.

Her breath quickened when he sucked her nipples then spread jelly on her belly in a line leading downwards. His hands slid along her arms to intertwine their fingers. She held on tightly. His tongue explored her navel and she startled, squeezing her legs around him. He smirked and did it again, playing with her until she was whining and pulling.

“There, there, darling,” he drawled teasingly as he pulled off her panties, stroke her hips with a hand and looked for a condom with the other.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Darcy grumbled, “take off your boxer and show me the goods, Mr Bond,” she demanded, promptly founding a condom and unwrapping it.

Any answer and small talk were swallowed in passionate kisses and small cries as they clung to each other.

 

When Lance sagged on top of her, both of them breathless, he nudged her neck with his nose. “You’re right. You’re sticky.”

“Duh.”

“But you liked it.”

“Shut up, peanut butter, and wash me.” She stroked his back to soften her words.

“So demanding,” he teased. “Yes my sweet jelly!”


End file.
